sometimes less is more

October 16, 2017 Jacqui

We were all sitting around the dinner table the other night, sausage sandwiches and macaroni and cheese strewn about on mismatched plates.

"These new chairs are so comfortable!" my son exclaims.

He brought them in off the front porch that night and placed them neatly around the table, willingly and without complaint. We really needed more kitchen chairs, and these happened to be free. After a painful series of "Doubles" addition YouTube videos finished, we talked about school and upcoming events, among other things.

"These new chairs are awesome! They are soo comfortable!" my son exclaims, again.

I chuckle and, leaning over to my husband, whisper, "I love that he shares our low standards."

And we both laughed...

inversely proportional income /or/ give us our daily bread

October 15, 2017 Jacqui

Everything began to change the year (2011) my husband switched jobs, and in doing so, took a paycut equivalent to half his salary. We had just enough to make ends meet, but no longer was there any extra. Our lifestyle change was sudden and drastic, but the thought that it was only temporary until he could figure out the next career step made it easier to swallow.

We knew it would be a hard year, but it was a much-needed change for the health and stability of marriage. While I would certainly miss the hefty financial cushion, I was honestly looking forward to rekindling our life together as a family. And, I figured, we could make anything work for one year. Left with no other choice, we went to an all-cash system, deliberately paid down debt, and I turned into one of those “crazy couponers” to make ends meet.

I remember leafing through the pink, pocket-sized accordion envelope filled with dollar bills and feeling a tangible, holy fear, knowing that when I spent the very last dollar in the envelope, the money was gone. Like, gone gone...

the designer home "promised land" /or/ the path not taken {part 2}

October 14, 2017 Jacqui

The Holy Spirit was so strong, heavy, and grieving in my chest, that come evening, the words spilled out across the dinner table to my husband. We shouldn’t go through with it. We can’t. But I don’t know why. It doesn’t make any sense. Both to my devastation and relief, he’d been hearing the same thing.

Our drive to the suburbs that week had a different tone. Solemn. Quiet. We had gotten pretty far into this thing--they were set to break ground the following week--and we were afraid they wouldn’t let us out of it. I wasn’t sure what we would do then, but I knew God was bigger than all of this and He could figure it out. Or at least I hoped he would....

the designer home "promised land" /or/ .... {part 1}

October 13, 2017 Jacqui

From the other side of the table, the project manager asked us, “which countertop do you like best?”

Spread out in between us were siding colors, countertop samples, shutter swatches, carpet squares, and booklets of options for everything from doorknobs to light fixtures to outlet covers. This process was overwhelming but exciting at the same time.

Indecisive, I replied, “they all kind of look the same to me.”

The countertop samples were slightly different hues of the same shade of dark. He went on to explain that some people were particular about how the earthy tones of the marbling swirled and folded, how we wouldn’t want it blotchy in one area but bare in another. I didn’t realize people thought or cared so much about those kind of things.

It was February of 2010, and this had become a sort of weekly “date night” for us, driving about twenty minutes west of the city to meet with the project manager and discuss our new build in the suburbs....

running the race with Jesus /or/ grace for the road

October 12, 2017 Jacqui

I wrote this guided meditation (to pull out the Social Work jargon) for the first women's retreat I ever led in 2014. I've never published or shared it outside of that context before, but it's a good follow-up to my "holy burnout" post. What God slowly revealed to me in the years that followed was that the solution to my problems had nothing to do with performing for Him, but rather, the answers and peace I sought could only be found in surrender and grace.

I wanted to mix it up a little, so I hope you'll close your eyes and listen to this imperfect recording on "running the race with Jesus" today.

Also, I'd love to hear from you! If the content this month has resonated with you or impacted you in some way, feel free to leave a comment and/or share it with your friends. Thanks again for journeying along with me!

HELLO!

I'm Jacqui, the mom behind the camera. Wife of one + momma to five. Writer + speaker. Unqualified philosopher + theologian. Accidental mentor. Chaos manager. Lover of coffee + wine, perspective, and Jesus. Truth teller. Freedom fighter. Worth affirmer. Wanna-be author + world changer. Laundry piler. Emoji enthusiast. It's nice to meet you!

I hope you'll stay awhile and take a look at life through my lens, as I seek to find joy in the mess and walk with God through the beauty of everyday life.

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That last-week-of-school hustle is reeeeaaal. 😩👊🏻😴

Oh haaay, summer, haaay!! ✨😎 It’s almost 90 degrees with a breeze here in CLE, & we’re not minding one little bit. We just got back from a Target run, as one does on a Saturday. 🎯 I swept yesterday’s chalk dust and all the helicopters off the porch (as far as propagating strategies go, this is a very good one. Those suckers are EVERYWHERE!), and now I’m watching my little corner of the world go by from my second-hand rocking chair on the porch, iced coffee in hand. And it’s so, so good to be right here. In this moment, in this place: the wind tugging at my hair, the kids arguing about something in the backyard, the wind chimes next door, the dogs sunning themselves at my feet. These are the days. This is the abundant life. And I wouldn’t trade it for the whole wide world. My corner is enough.

I used to think the old woman who lived in a shoe was nuts. I mean, why in the world would you choose live in a shoe? With all those kids?? 😱 And withholding the bread? Straight up neglect. Some versions say she kissed them fondly, but we all know that mean broad spanked the daylights out of them before sending them straight to bed. Then I became a parent. Life has a way of waking you up to realities that are literally impossible to understand until you’re completely immersed in the incessant demands of a sacrificial season, or in some cases, a sacrificial existence. And you can fathom now how life can wear a person down to a shell of who they were, how one unfortunate circumstance can tragically alter a trajectory. And you finally realize that no one chooses to live in a shoe. A shoe is where you live when you have no choices, when you’re out of options, when it’s either a shoe or the streets. She had so many children she didn’t know what to do—so many mouths to feed every day. If broth and bread is all she could afford, there might not have been enough to go around. She didn’t ration out of neglect but rather out of necessity. And she whipped them all soundly before she put them to bed because she didn’t have anything left. Because she’s an overwhelmed, exhausted single mom without a shred of a support system. She never gets a break. Carrying the weight of their survival solely on her weary shoulders, she beats them now so the police won’t later. She whoops them because she cares, and that’s the only way she ever learned how to show it. . ...and what you can see now is, she loves them.

Anyone else feel the pull to show up here every so often to say, “Hey! I’m still busy doing things! My life is still interesting! And it matters! And here’s why…” When I feel compelled or obligated to do something, for whatever reason, one of the best things I can do for myself, at least for a little while, is….don’t. Don’t log on. Don’t post for the heck of posting. Don’t force something that doesn’t want to come. And I let the silence begin to speak for itself. God speaks in a whisper, you know, but how often are we quiet enough to hear it? And how exactly did we arrive at the place where our worth was determined by the number of hearts tapped out on 2x2 squares? It sounds quite ridiculous when it’s all spelled out like that, doesn’t it?

This is how we showed up at church tonight—legit looking like maybe we just crawled out of a garbage dump. Or at least a construction zone. 🚧 It’s actually worse than it looks and literally the best I’ve got this week. Bless it. Also, the nursery worker made them wash hands before snack, so we’re good. What matters is that we showed up. On time, in fact, which is no small miracle in and of itself. . ✨All that is required of us is that we arrive as our truest selves. And today? We’re filthy. So, here’s a gentle reminder to you, fellow traveler: come dirty, come late, come ill-prepared or even irate. Come with a smile on your face, or come because you need some grace. Come stressed, come sweaty, come imperfect, even petty. Just come, in spite of your mess, and trust that God will take care of the rest. He always does. See for yourself. ➡️

These jokers are my favorite. 💖 #happymothersday

‘Tis the season. 💜🌸 The only problem is choosing just one! 🤩 So I didn’t. 😬 Did you know that lilacs only bloom for 1-2 weeks a year? Kinda makes you wonder about humanity’s over-emphasis on “blooming”—always producing, striving, hustling, creating output. Even if we’re blooming where we’re planted, as the saying goes, it’s brief. Stunning, yes. Breathtaking, yes. Colorful, vibrant, full of life, yes please. But also short-lived. Temporary. Fleeting. Seasons are not only temporary but necessary. Don’t focus so much on the fruit that you miss the seasons of watching and waiting, of hunkering down when the landscape is barren and learning to weather the storms. These create the fertile soil in which flowers grow. 💜

*new headshot* 😬

Today is Good Friday, and it arrived exactly how I always picture it—the sky weeping, the earth soaked with tears. This is the inevitable darkness that must come before the morning, the necessary death which precedes resurrection. This heartbreaking pattern of life is something my human heart always struggles to embrace as “the way.” Surely, there has to be another (less painful) avenue toward truth and life? . Selfishly, I want what we all think we want at the end of the day: a life of comfort and ease. We quickly realize, however, that comfort is fleeting and ease is overrated. With each excruciating step up the hill of Calvary, Jesus reminds us again: every good and perfect gift arrives on the other side of death. It is finished, forever and ever. Amen.

Sell your cleverness and buy bewilderment. —Rumi

HELLO!

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